


Story to Tell

by ohwhatamessiam28



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Feelings, Friendship, Multi, No Smut, Non-Graphic Violence, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Second Person, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Reader-Insert, although chapter one skirts the possibility, kinda a slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-02-27 06:11:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13242129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohwhatamessiam28/pseuds/ohwhatamessiam28
Summary: MCU Avengers series, each chapter features the reader meeting and helping a different member of the Avengers. Chapters will feature Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Sam, Wanda, Clint, Tony, Thor, Peter, and Bruce (Loki, Rhodey, Scott, Valkyrie, and Vision will be mentioned.)After your boyfriend of 2 years cheats on you with your best friend, you become isolated and bitter. But as the weeks go by you find yourself running into the Avengers at the oddest moments, and helping them out of some sticky situations. Your experiences with the team would make for a great story to tell, too bad no one would believe you.





	1. Hard Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve just experienced the worst break up of your life and your friend drags you out to a club. Who you meet and what you’ll do to help him might surprise?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this as a Bucky x Reader one-shot for a friend’s writing challenge (it’ll be obvious that my prompt was ‘Lonely’). Instead, the story took on a life of its own and when I hadn’t even mentioned Bucky 3500 words in, my beta encouraged me to let Steve take the wheel and make it his story. I thought about keeping it as a one shot, but my beta also really wanted more, so here we are, starting another series!

Spotify playlist is a work in progress (adding more as I write).

Lonely.

Alone.

You’d been alone since your relationship of 2 years ended.

Ended with your boyfriend cheating on you.

And he cheated on you with your best friend.

You’d been lonely ever since.

And not just lonely as in Merriam-Webster’s dictionary’s definitions of alone: “being without company” or “cut off from others.” No, this loneliness sat in your bones, weighing you down. It ate at your chest, leaving emptiness in its wake. It perverted your thoughts, telling you you’d always been alone, and always would be.

You know what lonely tastes like, like dust in your mouth, coating all your tastes buds and warping every flavor you so badly wish you could remember.

You know what lonely smells like, like your laundry detergent and dryer sheets that blend into one unrecognizable scent. No fresh aftershave, no woody cologne, no musk from another’s skin. Lonely left you curled into a ball in bed, holding onto the last piece of his clothing that smelled like him, breathing in the faintest remainders of a better time.

You know what lonely sounds like, like the wind blowing against the walls of your apartment, howling its cries of sympathy. The ticking of your clocks filling the silence, the creaking of your pipes echoing through the quiet. No laughter, no language, no soft snoring lulling you to sleep. Just the sound of your lungs managing to keep working, and sometimes, your heart beating in your ear.

You know what lonely looks like, like the dark circles and bags under your eyes, and your 8 lbs lost in two weeks. The lone crack of light that breaks through your curtains that you ignore before you roll on to your other side. The empty dishes stacking up in your sink, reminding you of a time when you had the motivation to _do_ something, anything.

You know what lonely feels like, maybe the most. It’s the hole in your soul, aching for a shred of contact, whether physical or emotional, it wouldn’t matter. The heaviness in your limbs makes it hard to move, makes it hard to do anything. And while a fog covers your mind, keeps your nerves dull, pain still sits in your core, pulling at your heart. Your lungs fight for air sometimes when you’re completely still. Your hands search for the warmth of his skin on the other side of the bed, but they come back empty. Your heart feels bruised and strangled, barely pumping blood through your chilled veins. Your mouth feels dry and unused, and your flesh is frozen. Permanent frostbite since the glow of trust, and closeness, and happiness left your life.

As much as you wished your life could stop moving, that the world would slow down, you managed to drag yourself to work. Your boring desk job, answering telephones for a customer service agency. You pretended not to notice how your coworkers stared at you when you’d show up in wrinkled and coffee stained clothes, your skin and hair bare of any trace of effort. On your first day at work after your breakup, a couple colleagues worked up the nerve to ask you what was going on. Your blank stare and denial of anything happening sent them away unsatisfied, but they did not return with questions, just left you be.

You preferred it that way. Going through the motions when you had to, and staying catatonic when you didn’t. You made it through two weeks like that, avoiding the people in your life. Ignoring texts and calls from friends and family, looking the other way whenever someone tried to talk to you, nodding and saying ‘uh huh’ until someone would leave you alone.

A text broke that pattern for you. Your ex messaged you saying he was stopping by the apartment the next evening to finish gathering the things he’d left behind. You told yourself it would be better for you if his stuff was all gone. Maybe you could stop staring at it and move on. But you knew you couldn’t see him, it might have been two weeks but your wounds were still raw.

One of your friends, Jenna, suggested going out for drinks that night, swearing it was time to get off your ass and get on with your life. You agreed begrudgingly, and bothered to put half as much effort as you used to in your appearance. She said you had to wear her favorite little black dress of yours, and you knew she’d guilt you if you didn’t. But you weren’t sure why you needed to be in a dress to eat chips and drink margaritas.

She picks you up at your apartment 30 minutes before your ex is supposed to show up. You leave a note on the kitchen table telling him to leave his key under the mat when he’s done getting his things. Dreading the night ahead of you, you had a few shots of whiskey to put you in a somewhat better mood. Forcing yourself to step out the front door is almost as painful as your actual break up, but you try to put on a brave face for the first time in weeks.

You sit down in Jenna’s passenger seat as she puts on her best apologetic face, “Look babe, I know you don’t want to do this, but anything is better than seeing that asshole’s face again.” You shrug at her as she looks you over before pulling out of her parking spot. “You look good, but did you have to wear those boots?”

You roll your eyes at her, deciding that you should at least talk to her tonight, “They’re still heels, they’re just more practical than your stilettos.”

“Oh, there she is,” she grins at you as she comes to a stoplight. “Now let’s see if we can keep the old you out tonight with some tequila.”

* * *

When she pulls into a parking lot next to a nightclub, you audibly groan.

“Don’t start,” she warns as she unbuckles her seat belt. “I only promised you margaritas, and this place serves some of the best in town.”

“But, there’s too many people,” you whine, smacking away her hand as she reaches to pull you out of the car.

“Exactly. You need to be around people, you need to flirt with someone new! You’ll become a bitter hermit if you don’t.” She isn’t wrong. You finally get out of the car but keep your arms crossed over your chest. “Better but remember we’re looking for a rebound,” she says as she tugs your wrists down to your sides, “we can’t be hiding your assets.”

You follow her to the front door, already knowing you won’t be going home with anyone tonight. The music from the club emanates down the block, and the line to get in reaches the storefronts two buildings down. Jenna, being the seasoned club vet she is, waves at the ginormous bouncer she calls Thor, and he greets her with a grin and a step to the side. You hesitate at the door, praying that you could still get out of this loud, but ultimately lonely night. Jenna tugs on your wrist harshly and yanks you over the threshold.

Once you’re inside you can already feel your skull vibrating to the bass and a single bead of sweat runs down your back. Even when you were in a relationship, hell, even before then, you weren’t a club person, and the headache that drills into your brain reminds you of that.

“Oohh, he’s cute,” Jenna says as she points to a tall, dirty blond guy leaning on the edge of the bar. His shoulders are as broad as a linebackers and they pull tightly against the blue button down he has on. You give him a once over, your eyes stopping on his ass for only a second longer than the rest of him. “You could totally end the night with him.”

“No, no,” you shake your head sharply. “He’s not even my type.”

She keeps pulling you through the crowd before she leads you to an empty spot in the middle of the bar. “Oh come on, you saw that ass. That ass is everyone’s type.” As you stick an elbow out and claim a piece of the countertop, Jenna waves at the bartender. She’s a redhead in a black tank top and she’s talking to the guy with the broad shoulders and good ass when she turns her attention your way. “You can let go of your tortured artist type for one night. Guys like that are made to have fun with.”

The redhead leaves that end of the bar and heads your way, and as she does the man that’s the opposite of everything you’ve ever been attracted to gives you a quick one over and a small smile. Heat rises up your chest and into your cheeks as the bartender stops in front of you girls. You stare back at the man for a moment before he turns away with a chuckle.

“What can I get ya, ladies?” she asks and starts pouring a glass of beer for another patron.

“6 tequila shots!” Jenna answers excitedly, and she’s met with a grin from the bartender.

“Starting the night off right, I see,” she comments as she places several shot glasses on the counter. You glance down at the end of the bar to find the large guy watching the crowd of people dancing as another chuckle settles on his lips.

“You promised me margaritas,” you pout, turning to Jenna quickly.

“It’s still early, you’ll get your margarita, I promise. You just need to start with something harder,” Jenna responds as she nods at the bartender who holds up a topshelf grade of tequila.

The bartender steps onto a platform behind the bar to get higher up, and pours all the shots in one smooth pour. “I don’t think this is her first drink tonight,” she adds as she glances at you suggestively.

“Ah, uh, no,” you stammer as you look between your friend and the bartender. “I had some whiskey before I left the apartment.”

“Good,” Jenna squeals in your ear as she slides a shot to you and takes one for herself. The bartender places a salt shaker in front of you two and a small tray of limes. You give her a polite smile and shake a line of salt on the back of your hand. Jenna makes you clink glasses before she lets you lick up your line of salt and throw back your shot. You throw your head back and stay that way for a moment, feeling the liquid burn down the back of your throat. For the first time in weeks, your body doesn’t feel frozen and you welcome the change in sensation.

You throw back the other two shots without anymore salt or a lime. Jenna watches you do it with wide eyes.

“What are we celebrating tonight?” the bartender asks as she takes your empty glasses off the counter.

You reach for one lime slice to suck on as Jenna answers her, “(Y/N) just got of out of a relationship of two years.”

The bartender nods in understanding and you loosen up, feeling the weight in your bones lighten, “Yeah he cheated on me, with my best friend.”

“Damn,” the bartender answers, shaking her head. “You ladies deserve a fun night then. I’ll get you two margaritas.”

“Thank you,” you smile as Jenna takes her second shot.

“Oh, it’s absolutely no problem,” the bartender assures you as she reaches for a cocktail shaker. “My name’s Natasha by the way. Let me know if you need anything else tonight.”

* * *

You’re on your second margarita when Jenna sees a friend of hers across the club. She makes you swear to stay where you are so she can find you easily, and you roll yours eyes at her, “Have I moved from this spot so far?”

She laughs and takes a step back, “No, and don’t you start trying to run away now.” She holds her finger up to point at you as she stares at you closely. Holding her gaze for a second, you shrug and go back to drinking your margarita. She grins victoriously and turns around as she disappears into the crowd.

You turn back to the bar and down the rest of your margarita before attempting to flag down Natasha. She’s busy with a few other patrons, but you continue to call her name, even though the weird dance version of a pop song continues to drown out your every thought. Your attempts are pointless and you huff as you arch back, pushing your body away from the bar. For the first time in weeks there’s red in your cheeks, your mouth doesn’t feel dry, and your blood feels like it’s pumping warmth in your veins.

Resting your elbows back on the bar, you try your best to get Natasha’s attention again. A large arm slides past your face, waving above your head. You turn to find the huge man with the good ass leaning on the bar next to you, a crooked smile adorning his lips. Up close, the blue of his eyes glisten brightly, and until then you hadn’t noticed the straightness of his nose or how pouty his bottom lip is.

“Hi,” he chuckles as he looks down at you and you drop your gaze quickly, turning back to the bar. You clench onto the countertop so tightly your knuckles turn white, and you try to ignore how your heart rate picks up. Natasha stops in front of you and raises her eyebrows, asking what you want. “Get her another one of whatever she’s having,” the blue eyed man says to Natasha, and you watch a sly smile pull on the corners of her lips.

“It’s the first time you’ve bought a girl a drink in a while, huh? Steve?” she asks as she watches him closely. You look up at him for only second, wanting to see his reaction. His obvious eye roll would have made you giggle if you weren’t in the middle of the worst month of your life.

“Just get her the drink, Nat,” he says as he leans toward her. She holds his gaze but doesn’t move. “Please?” he asks and a victorious grin breaks on her face.

“Ah, there’s those gentlemanly manners,” she says as she takes your empty glass off the counter and reaches for a fresh one. “Wouldn’t want to make a bad first impression,” she adds as she winks at you. Your cheeks warm at her words and you pray that the club is too dark for anyone to notice.

Natasha puts your drink together, and your eyes follow her as you keep your shoulder to the specimen she called Steve. Even though several inches separate your bodies, you can already feel the warmth his skin radiates. And just for a second you close your eyes and try to remember what hot skin feels like.

“That’s cool, we don’t have to talk,” Steve says quietly, as if he didn’t mean for you to hear it. His words pull you out of your daze.

Natasha places your fresh margarita on the counter and you give her a polite smile as you pick it up. “Thanks for the drink,” you say to Steve, looking over at him before taking a sip.

“You’re welcome,” he nods before he takes a swig from the beer bottle in his hand. “I figured by how fast you were downing everything, you were in need of a little hospitality.”

You stare at him blankly as you take another gulp. “I’m not gonna sleep with you.”

Steve’s eyes grow wide suddenly, and you hear a loud laugh from behind the bar. You turn to find Natasha bent over, nearly cackling, and you swear you can hear laughter from somewhere behind you.

Steve’s cheeks turn pink as he drops his gaze from you, “I-, I wasn’t trying to-. I didn’t mean to make you, uh, think that.”

“Oh, okay,” you shrug before you take another drink. “I just figured you know, cute guy slides up to a bar at a trendy club and buys a random stranger a drink. Normally that’s code for ‘I want to take you home.’”

“Maybe so,” Steve responds, a nervous smile framing his perfectly straight teeth. “But that’s-, well that’s not what I was hoping for.”

“Then what were you hoping for?”

“A dance,” he answers and you control your slight surprise as you turn to face him. “I’m a pretty shitty dancer, but you’ve looked miserable all night and I thought I could at least offer you some company.”

“I appreciate that.” His fingers have been tapping against his bottle as he watches you and you do your best to seem cordial. “And I’d say yes, but I’m supposed to stay here and wait until a friend comes back.”

“Oh yeah, I get it. Safety in numbers, gotta look out for each other.”

You turn back to the bar and down the rest of your drink. As you place your glass on the counter you catch Natasha watching you two with a smirk on her lips. “Do you two know each other, or something?” you ask Steve as you point at Natasha.

“Yeah, she’s just an old friend,” he answers.

You place a hand on your hip, “So you come here a lot?”

“No, I don’t,” he shakes his head quickly. “Clubs aren’t really my thing.” As the words leave his lips, a shove comes from behind him at the bar. Not expecting the push, he loses his balance and crashes into you.

The firmness and warmth of his body sets your mind spinning and you try not to focus on how his fingers hold onto your hips as he rights himself. “Oh god, I’m sorry,” he apologizes as he steps back and drops his hands.

Just as you open your mouth to respond, Jenna pushes between you two, “Oh there you are!” She grabs your arm to make sure you’re okay. “Sorry about that, some guy got a little pushy back there.” As she slides up to you she looks over at Steve, a knowing grin taking over her features. “(Y/N), who’s this?”

“Oh, um, this is Steve, right?” He nods at you with a polite smile. “Steve this is my friend, Jenna.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jenna,” he says as he leans his elbow back on the bar.

“I think the pleasure is all ours,” she says as she looks him up and down. You notice the blush darkening his cheeks again. You glance at Jenna, knowing she’s currently on again, with her off again-on again boyfriend. Although you don’t know Steve, he seems like a nice guy and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t deserve that drama in his life.

“I think I’ll take you up on that dance now,” you suggest. Jenna turns to you, her mouth agape as Steve’s eyes grow wide in surprise.

“Really?” he asks, his voice growing a tiny bit quieter, as if he means to ask you that privately.

“Why not?” Steve gulps down the rest of his beer as you reach for his hand and pull him into the crowd.

* * *

You pull Steve far enough into the crowd to disappear, but somewhere you can still keep an eye on Jenna. Her eyes follow you, and as you turn back to face her you catch the huge grin she’s wearing as she winks at you. Steve, as large as he is, looks awkward for the first time that night. The dance floor is packed with moving bodies and he tries his best to take up as little space as possible.But that means he’s hunched forward, trying to keep his arms in front of his body.

The warmth of the crowd makes your skin sticky with sweat, but you try to ignore it. Closing your eyes, you attempt to get into the music, feel the bass pumping in your chest. You swing your hips and shoulder to the beat and open your eyes to find Steve moving his shoulders stiffly. He looks lost and you take sympathy on him in his less than confident state.

Moving closer to him, you lift his hands and place them on your hips. Steve stares at you nervously, holding his hands so they hover above your body. You nod at him to answer his question of uncertainty, and he relaxes, dropping his shoulders as his hands rest on you. Slipping your own hands up his arms, you close the distance between you two.

Knotting your hands behind his neck, you look up at him and Steve’s eyes meet yours. Even in the dark they appear bright. He does his best to follow your lead, moving to the beat and swaying with your body. You stay like that until the next song begins and you glance back at the bar. Jenna is laughing flirtily and touching a guy’s bicep, and you see Natasha watching you two with a smile.

Leaning closer to his ear, you ask, “Natasha really wants you to have a good time, doesn’t she?”

Steve laughs at your comment as he rests a hand on the small of your back, “She knows I don’t go out often. Why’d you ask?”

“She’s been watching you all night.” As you lean away you catch something dark sitting in his ear. You glance past Steve again and see Jenna smiling and waving at you from the bar. You give her a small wave and she answers with a thumbs up.

The song in the background picks up and you follow the beat as you turn around in Steve’s hands. Leaning back into him, you place a hand on his neck, allowing him to take control of your movements. When Steve doesn’t pull your hips into his, you do it for him, grinding against him.

He spins you around quickly and looks at you with wide eyes. Giving him an apologetic smile, you mouth, “sorry.” As the song slows back down, you ask, “So what’s in your ear?”

Steve’s shoulders straighten under your hands, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Politeness disappears from his features. 

“You don’t have to lie to me,” you answer as you drop your hands. You’d just been lied to by your ex for weeks and you didn’t need a new man in your life to do the same to you. You push past him, weaving back through the crowd and toward the bar when he grabs your hand and pulls you back.

“Wait,” he says, pulling you close to him. “I’m sorry, but I’m-, I’m kinda undercover for work at the moment.”

“Like a police sting?”

“Yeah, kinda like that,” he nods as he looks you in the eye.

“So, why are you dancing with me?”

“You looked miserable, and I figured I could buy you a drink at least and blend in at the same time.”

“That’s why you asked me to dance, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe,” he admits.

“Well it’s obvious you don’t love to dance,” you tease, looking over his shoulder at the stage.

“You’re right. This isn’t my thing.”

“Is Natasha undercover too?”

“I can’t answer that question,” Steve responds as you two sway to the music.

“So that’s a yes. That guy in the dark clothes and manbun pretending to be security on the stage is with you too then.”

“Who-, what’re you talking about?” he asks as he spins you around to face the bar.

“Oh come on, he was watching you when I turned around earlier, and he’s still watching you now,” you say as you make eye contact with Natasha again. Her face has gone from smiling to serious. “Based on Natasha’s face I’m guessing she can hear every word I’m saying.”

“(Y/N),” Steve starts as he turns you away from the bar. “This is serious. I shouldn’t have…”

“Relax. I’m not gonna blow this for you, but if you told me this earlier I might have played along easier.”

“I can’t compromise this.”

“It’s fine, I understand that. But my life has been depressing and lonely as hell for the last two weeks, so an excuse to pretend I’m someone else would be a nice change.”

“You’re not a part of this.”

“I know Steve, I know.”

“I shouldn’t have asked you-.”

“The guy in the VIP section with the private security just did a double take at your face.”

“What?” Steve pulls back from you.

“I’m guessing that’s your guy?” You turn Steve’s back to the men. His eyes narrow as he looks at you but you know he’s listening to something in his ear.

Steve curses under his breath after a second and you peek over his shoulder. One of the security guards begins weaving through the crowd. “My cover’s blown.”

You grab Steve’s face between your hands, “Shit, are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Then get out of here,” you say as he pulls you through the crowd and toward the exit.

“He’s seen me with you, if I leave you he’ll go after you too.”

“Shit, okay,” you answer as you pick up your speed. As Steve tries to weave through the dancing bodies you swear you hear Jenna shout your name. “Okay, okay, I have an idea.”

“What?” he asks, not looking back at you.

You tug on his hand to pull him to a stop and nearly dislocate your wrist doing it, but he looks back at you. “Kiss me, okay?” His eyes are confused but they focus as he leans toward your mouth. You push onto your toes and slip a hand into his hair, pulling him into you the rest of the way.

Your lips meet softly at first and you both keep your eyes open, unsure of each other’s willingness to participate. Steve’s strong arms wrap around your body and you close your eyes, letting yourself melt into him. The kiss becomes more intense as your lips work together, opening in unison. He turns you toward the door and begins carrying you out of the crowd.

You pull back momentarily as you bump into a couple, and whisper, “Just pick me up.” He obliges and lifts you off the ground. You wrap your legs around his waist and reconnect your mouths with more urgency. Your heated actions must part the crowd because the next thing you know you’re back is being pressed against the wall as Steve’s fingers trail down your thighs. You loosen your legs from around him and he lowers you back down to the floor gently.

Steve pins you to the wall as he moves his lips to your cheek and instructs, “Look to see is he’s still following us.” You nod and tilt your head to see past him as his lips ghost your neck. The crowd is large but you squint to see a man shoving his way through the crowd.

His eyes land on you two and you quickly close your eyes and let out a fake moan, “He’s still on us.”

Steve slips an arm around your waist as he guides you to the front door, “Then we keep moving.” You let him take charge as his lips press against yours and his other hand shoves the door open. He pulls back to rush you towards the parking lot and you swear you hear a ‘woop’ come from the entrance.

“When he shows up, tug on my shirt, okay?” he tells you as he presses you against the brick wall of the club. You nod and kiss again, and this time Steve’s tongue slips across your bottom lip, asking for entrance you. You give in and open up to him as you grip onto his biceps. You try to focus on your surroundings as you two make out but he doesn’t make it easy for you to stay attentive.

After another moment you hear feet jogging toward you and you tilt your head to the side to check. The man approaches you with a gun drawn and you slide your hand down to Steve’s chest and poke his abdomen with your finger sharply before tugging on his button down.

The man steps up behind you and Steve pulls back, swinging his arm up and pushing the man’s gun away from you two. He lands a good punch on the guys face before disarming him. After the gun slides away on the concrete he flips the guy over and places him in a choke hold. The guy flails and tries to fight but he loses consciousness after several more seconds. Steve lets him fall back before he lifts him off the ground and hustles him toward a car. You pick up the discarded gun and carry it carefully as you follow him.

Steve pops the trunk of a sedan and drops the guy inside before reaching for a pair of zip ties and a cloth. He restrains the man’s hands behind his back and by his legs before he ties a gag around his mouth and shuts the trunk. You stare at him with wide eyes.

“Dude, what the fuck?” you ask as you hold the gun toward the ground.

“Okay, so I may have skimmed over some of the details,” he says as he leans against the side of the car.

“Apparently,” you say as he reaches for the gun. “Are you sure I’m not gonna need this?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. He lifts a hand to his ear, trying to hear through his comms unit. “Okay okay, Bucky, stay somewhere you can keep an eye on everyone, Clint, tail them out of the building.”

Steve’s hand grips your elbow as he opens the back door of the car and pushes you inside. “What the hell are you-,” you start before Steve slides in behind you. He closes the door and pulls the gun from your hand before putting the safety on. “Hey-.”

“That guy in the VIP section and his other security guard are coming out. When the guy in the trunk didn’t come back in or walkie them, they figured something was wrong.” The back door of the club opens and Steve shoves you down into the seat, covering your body with his.

“I literally get cheated on, spend two weeks depressed and alone, and now I’m gonna get fucking abducted and killed by some random stranger.”

Steve’s hand covers your mouth to quiet you, “I’m not gonna hurt you. I’m trying to keep you safe and out of this.” A second later a kick comes from the trunk, wiggling the car. “Shit,” he whispers as he pulls his hand from your mouth.

“You want me to help you keep your cover?” you ask as you stare at him. His lids lower as he nods and you push him off you. Straddling his lap, you yank your phone and lipstick from your bra and toss it on the floor of the car. Steve’s hands slide up your thighs as he watches your mouth, and you work the top couple buttons of his shirt open. Pulling one of your straps down, he continues to stare at you, lost. “Work with me here, okay?”

He nods after a second and pulls you toward him, reconnecting your lips. Another bump comes from the trunk. “He’s being too loud,” you say against his mouth.

“Then we get louder,” he answers as he begins to kiss your neck, his hands lift your hips up before pulling them against his own. He lets out a loud groan to cover the next kick from the trunk. If you’re gonna help him keep his cover, you might as well commit.

“This is so awkward,” you whisper into his hair as you hold both sides of his face in your hands, trying to keep his profile hidden. You pull his head into your chest and bounce against him as his arms wrap around your back. He nuzzles into you and you throw your head back, letting out an exaggerated moan. You smack your hand against the window, dragging your fingers down it as you pretend to fuck this beautiful but very strange man in the back of a car.

You let out a whimper and tug on Steve’s hair, covering a muffled shout from the trunk. Pulling his head up, you give him a chaste kiss on the lips before you moan loudly, “Fuck.” You continue to fake ride Steve for another couple seconds until you hear him laughing under you.

You look down to catch him grinning at you, his blue eyes shining in the darkness. “I guess that means we can stop,” you say as you push yourself off of his lap.

“Yeah, they left.”

“Cool,” you nod as Steve’s hand catches your calf and keeps your legs resting over his lap. You stare at his long fingers for a second before looking back at him, “So are you gonna tell me why you have a guy shoved in the trunk?”

“That’s a long story. All you need to know is that he’s a bad guy, working for an even worse guy who deals dangerous weapons and tech, and we were supposed to surveil an exchange at the club tonight.”

“Why go by your actual names, then?” It only took you a moment to put together who he was once his cover was blown and he tugged you through the crowd with superhuman strength.

“You-, you knew who-.”

“Yes Rogers. I didn’t know the whole time, but I figured it out before I left the club with you.”

“I guess we thought it would make it easier to act natural. We’d all still look different, but we weren’t trying to maintain any fake personas.”

“So that was Natasha Romanoff back there, and Clint Barton and Bucky Barnes are in there too.” He looks at you with a stern expression, trying not to give anything else away. “But was that the actual Thor at the door?”

“Uhh, yeah, he works here actually. He’s the one who got us in tonight.”

“Thor Odinson, God of Thunder, works as a club bouncer on Earth?”

Steve chuckles, ignoring your disbelief, “He does and he’s actually really good at it. I mean, he’s huge but he’s a nice guy. And he loves having a captive audience that he can tell stories to.”

“I would have never guessed it,” you say as you rest your head against the backseat. You two become quiet, the muffled groans coming from the trunk quieting with you. Steve’s thumb gently rubs the back of your leg and you relax against him as you close your eyes.

“(Y/N),” he begins softly. “I know this wasn’t how you, or I, planned this night going, but I wanna thank you. It was, kinda nice.”

“It was a welcome distraction,” you answer, meeting his gaze. His eyes take you in, before he nods and smiles. You feel yourself leaning towards him, wanting to kiss him one last time when the door behind you opens.

“Ugh, hey there, we gotta go,” a guy with a faux hawk says as he bends down, looking in the car at you two.

“Sure,” Steve answers, sliding your legs off of him. The guy with the faux hawk, who you now know is Clint, hesitates for a second, but then closes the door. You reach down for your phone and lipstick before you slide out of the car, not looking over your shoulder at Steve. You take two steps toward the club, going back to find Jenna when Steve calls out, “Wait.”

Looking back, you see him jogging around the car to you. You let him catch up before you start walking again, “I’ll get you back inside,” he says as he rests his hand on your back.

“Thanks.” You keep walking to the door as you see another man, that you can only assume is Bucky Barnes, slip out of the back door. He holds it open for you and Steve, a small smirk tugging on his lips. Steve takes the door from Bucky, and holds it open as he turns back to you.

“Thank you again, for helping tonight.”

“Thanks for distracting me.” You want to hug him but you really don’t know him well enough. Instead you rise on your toes and give him a small kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight, Steve.”

“Goodnight.”

You walk back into the loud club, wanting to look behind you and hold onto this connection, but you don’t. You hear the door close and let out a deep breath.

Here you are, back with your loneliness. Alone.

But there’s a little piece of something like hope inside of you now, and that wasn’t there when you walked into the club.


	2. Missing Cupid's Arrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After aiding the Avengers in their arms dealing bust, you find yourself crushing on Steve. Just as you think you’ll never see him again, another Avenger needs your help and just might get your hopes up.

Two weeks had passed since you’d made out with THE Steve Rogers, and you still found yourself thinking about him. The way his warm hands felt on your skin, how his crooked smile shined brightly even in the dark, how his chuckle met your ears and his bottom lip fit perfectly between your own lips.

But you reminded yourself that you would never see him again.

He’s an Avenger, he’s busy saving the world. And he probably doesn’t even remember your name. You’re just another face of another person that helped him out.

Your last long customer service call of the day ends and you happily hang up. You’d had two assholes who wanted to argue with you about their billing and products, even though you didn’t work for the billing office and all you could tell them, repeatedly, was to send their unused products back. One even angrily asked to be transferred to your manager. You’re more than ready to go home to your empty apartment and drink a bottle of wine by yourself.

You clock out for the day as you dig your phone out of your purse, and then head for the back door that leads to the parking garage. You’re texting Jenna back as you push open the door and step into the small alleyway between the building and the parking structure. You make it two more steps before you hear a loud shout, “Look out!”

As you take another step, your heel clicking against the asphalt, an arrow flies just inches past your face. Your head whips around to see where it came from, and on the roof of the building next to yours is a man in black and purple with a bow.

Hawkeye.

Oh great.

You turn the other way to find a group of men loading boxes into the back of a van, holstered guns clearly visible on their belts. The only problem is, just as you seem to notice them, they notice you too.

A soft woosh comes from behind you and you turn around to find where it came from. Clint Barton ziplines toward you, his bow sliding down a cable attached to one of his arrows. Hesitating for only a second as his feet pound against the pavement, you start moving toward the garage, knowing you need cover. Clint stays close behind you, shooting off arrows and flash bombs toward the men as you make it past a cement wall and a row of cars. Just as you step past a SUV, a loud gunshot echoes throughout the garage. A protective hand pushes you closer to the ground, and you squat down as several more bullets fly through the parking garage, hitting cars and cement columns.

Clint crouches next to you, looking under the vehicle to watch three sets of feet approach the you two. As you watch him you notice the earpieces he’s wearing, and for a moment you feel your cheeks warm as you wonder if they’re comms units, and if Steve’s nearby. Upon further inspection, you decide they’re hearing aids instead. Steve’s comms had been smaller and better tucked away, but Clint’s are larger and sit in his ears differently.

He rolls something under the car and towards the men before he turns to look at you. He gives you a quick smile, trying to ease your nerves, but he does a double take.

“Hi Clint,” you say, leveling a knowing stare at him.

“Didn’t Steve makeout with you at that club?” he asks quietly as he nocks another arrow, a sly smirk pulling on his lips.

You roll your eyes but let out a soft, “Yeah.”

Two more bullets hit the SUV you’re hiding behind, but near the headlights as the men get closer to you two. Clint’s lips count silently. You watch him as you take your heels off, your bare feet adjusting to the tiny rocks and coolness of the concrete.

His eyes meet yours as he nods, “3, 2, 1.” A small beep comes from the other side of the car and he raises his voice as he tells you, “Move.” You pivot and run away from the men while an explosion goes off, rocking the cars near you.

Clint follows you, his feet pounding the pavement at the same pace as yours. You glance behind you and see a man with a large gun stepping past the line of cars, smoke backdropping his slow approach. You reach out for Clint’s arm and pull him between two cars. His brows furrow as you continue to yank him into another row of vehicles.

As you two dunk behind the back of a small sports car. “Who are these guys?” you whisper as you watch Clint surveil the area.

“Loose ends on that arms dealing case the team was working on.”

“So you got the guy?” you whisper, listening to footsteps approaching your row of cars.

“Sorta. He’s dealing with extradition laws, since he’s wanted in like 20 countries.”

“So are these his minions?”

“More like business associates. They’re less tech savvy, so I was sent to handle them by myself.” Clint sends an arrow across the garage, its head firmly into a cement column. A small light blinks on the back of it, and he turns to you, pointing at an large black SUV. “Let’s get over there.”

You nod and move carefully, trying to stay quiet. As another guy with a gun passes by the blinking arrow, it emits a low-frequency sound for a moment, and then detonates. Several bright flashes blind the man, and Clint shoots an arrow at his feet. As it floats through the air, it transforms into a cable, managing to wrap around the man’s ankles and knocking him to the ground. His gun spins out from his body, and Clint sends off another arrow, pushing the gun out of the man’s reach and under a car.

You start to stand, ready to move again, but notice in a car’s side mirror the menacing guy with the big gun approaching you from behind. You lean against the back of the SUV, waiting for him to get closer, your fingers tightly clutching your heels.

As the man takes the last step to get to you two, you throw your shoes at his face and reach for the barrel of his weapon. Your heels make a satisfying thud as they smack his head, and you pull the gun away from him, pointing it toward the other end of the garage.

Surprisingly, the man lets go of the weapon and you turn it on him, saying lowly, “Get on your knees.” He appears dazed from the hit to his face, but listens to you.

Turning back to Clint, you see two more guys on the ground, one spread out like he’s been hit with a tranquilizer and the other with an electric charge to the chest. He pivots to look at you, a smile tugging on his mouth as he releases another tranq dart at the man on his knees. He crumbles to the ground, and you lower the gun.

“Steve won’t believe I ran into you,” Clint says as he moves to bind the unconscious mens’ hands. You stand there, trying to comprehend what actually just happened. “But he’ll be sad he missed out.”

Your head whips to Clint, his words pulling you out of daze. “What?”

“I just mean, he would have liked to see you again.”

“Did he say that?” you ask, moving toward Clint quickly. You try to ignore it, but you can feel your heart pounding in your chest.

“No. Not exactly.”

“Okay.” A sigh escapes your lips and you turn to find your shoes. There really was no reason to get your hopes up, you dumb crush on Steve Rogers was misplaced, and unrequited.

“But every time Nat or Sam has brought you up to him, his cheeks turn bright red.”

You hate the way your heart leaps to your throat. Squatting down, you feel around to get your heels from under a car. As you push yourself back up, Clint finishes tying up the guy beside you. Stepping past the cars, you finally pause to look Clint over. His arms are ropey with veins poking up here and there. You notice his slight limp, favoring his left leg, and the small compression sleeve he wears around his right forearm and elbow.

He grabs the unconscious guys’ wallets, looking for their ID’s. You fish one out and toss it to him. A tiny wince twitches across his features as he catches it.

“You alright, Barton?”

“Ah yeah, just got in a scuffle with some guys a couple days ago. I don’t heal as fast as all those super soldier do.”

You nod, deciding not to push the issue. You don’t even really know the guy, nonetheless, have a right to quiz him on his health.

He pulls his phone from his pocket before glancing back up at you, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” You let him have a tiny smirk as you lean on the back of a car to slip your heels on. He gives you a concerned look, watching you closely before he lifts the phone to his ear. His eyes stay on you until someone picks up at the other end of the line, and his furrowed brows smooth out.

He says barely four words into the phone before he hangs up, and you start walking toward your car, knowing that this situation is over. You turn your back and fish your keys out of your bag when you hear footsteps following you.

“Hey, look, (Y/N) right?” Clint calls to you.

You pause and face him as your brain tells you to stop hoping. When he doesn’t continue, you nod to encourage him.

“Did you like spending time with Steve?”

You narrow your eyes, “Yes.”

“Do you want me to give him your phone number, or something?”

“Clint,” you say the word like it’s a warning, but your chest feels tight with excitement anyway.

He throws his hands up as he backs toward the open wall of the garage. “Hey, Nat would never forgive me if I didn’t ask.”

You give him a polite smile as you watch him climb onto the edge of the wall, “She still won’t forgive you for not getting it.”

A small chuckle echoes around the walls. “Is there any place to get coffee around here?”

“Three blocks south,” you point before rounding an aisle of cars.

“Cool, thanks.”

When you look back, you see him jump from the wall, and then he’s gone.


	3. Deflated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After helping Clint out, your crush on Steve starts to dissipate. Your friend, Jenna, is trying to talk you into going out with her friend, and after running into another Avenger, you’re left thinking she might have the right idea.

A week had passed since you’d run into Clint, and your recurring thoughts about Steve Rogers had grown irregular. Which really meant the few you did have turned into slow-mo daydreams about Steve pressing you against a wall, and kissing you so passionately that him and the bricks behind you were the only thing keeping you upright.

But Clint had said Steve hadn’t said anything about you since that night. And if he was blushing whenever someone brought up your name, it was probably just because he was embarrassed by the crass performance you two had been forced into to keep his cover. Your one night with Steve would still replay in your head at the worst possible times, but your heart was telling you it was just a coincidence. A fun story to tell. Something you could hold onto privately for years to come.  

Jenna had noticed your quiet, far off moments, and she took them as a sign that you were ready to move on. And her concept of moving on meant you needed to get on top of someone else.

She’d lined up a blind date for you with one of her guy friends at a bar next Saturday night, and no matter how resistant you were to her idea, she wasn’t letting you get out of it.

“Come on, (Y/N),” she whines across the table from you. It’s a Tuesday afternoon and you’re sitting on the patio at your favorite cafe. Your lunch break had become hers to claim since the break up. “You’ll really like him! And if you don’t, you’ll at least like the way that he looks.”

“Him being pretty isn’t enough to get me through an entire date.”

“You haven’t even seen him yet. He’ll make you forget all about Captain America.”

Your eyes dart to her and you feel a warmth crawl up your neck. “What does he do?” you ask as you take a sip of your tea.

“He’s a model and actor.”

“Jenna…” the groan that leaves your throat makes her grin.

“No harm rebounding with a guy you won’t care about-”

“No, you know my rules. No actors. No models. And now, no musicians. It always goes bad with them.”

“Oh, not all of them are the same, (Y/N),” her bottom lip juts out as she pleads with you. “Give him a chance.”

“I don’t think I’m ready to give anyone a chance.”

“You mean anyone who isn’t Steve?” she asks, a brow arching up as she takes a drink from her coffee cup.

Your eyes narrow as you glare at her, “Fine. What’s his number and first name?” You slide your phone across the glass top.

She grins victoriously, “His name is Eric, and his eyes are a perfect shade of green that’ll make you dream about rolling around in the grass with him.” You were sure he was tall and toned too, considering Jenna worked for a casting director.

You take a bite of your sandwich as she digs up Eric’s number in her phone, and you let your eyes wander. A guy that looks oddly familiar walks out of the glassdoors of the cafe. He’s wearing a faded green t-shirt, a black jacket, dark aviators hanging off his collar, and a maroon hat. As if he could feel your eyes on him, he turns to you as he steps onto the pavement.

You drop your gaze quickly, heat rising to your cheeks as you realize that he caught you and is returning your stare with a smirk. You keep your eyes down, but to your dismay, the man comes over to your table.

“Ladies,” he says, pulling Jenna’s attention in immediately with his charming grin. He sticks his hand out for hers and asks, “Jenna, right?” You feel your eyes shoot up instantly, panic straightening your spine. “And (Y/N?)”

Jenna returns his smile, her eyes lighting up as she takes his hand. “Have we met?”

“Yes, but you probably wouldn’t remember considering how many margaritas you had that evening,” he answers as his gaze drops to their clasped hands.

“Shit,” Jenna squeals as she releases her grip to cover her mouth. “I spent like an hour flirting with you at that club, right?”

He nods as he pulls a chair from a neighboring empty table over to join you two.

You lean back in your seat, deciding that fate or destiny, whichever one of those is in control, well it’s really trying to mess with your head. “Sam, I presume,” you say, watching the way he leans an elbow on the edge of your table, letting him inch a little closer to Jenna.

“You would be correct, girl-who-made-out-with-Steve,” he smiles as he sets his iced coffee on the table. You’re about to object, you’re more than just that girl from the club, but Jenna doesn’t let you.

“That means your on the Avengers, right?” she asks, voice dropping to a whisper. Sam gives her a quick nod, but his eyes dart past your table nervously, checking to see if anyone heard her. “Good, and that means you’re tight with Steve?”

“Eh, I mean, I am one of his best friends.” Sam tries to play it cool, giving her a relaxed shrug, but there’s something behind his dark eyes that flash with worry.

“Great. So does he have a crush on (Y/N) or what?” Her words make your stomach drop, and you cover your face with your hands to hide how embarrassed you must look right now.

“Oh, we had so much fun teasing him about that night,” his dark eyes grow distant as he says the words, and a smug look twists his lips. “Nat swore that she’d finally found the one.”

“Natasha seemed overjoyed at them dancing together.” You peek through your fingers to see how Jenna’s taking this news, since bringing Steve up again might threaten her plans to set you up. Instead, she looks proud of you, like she knew you could reel in something better than your ex.

“Oh, she was. She’s been trying to set Steve up for years. Since way before I’d met both of them.”

“But (Y/N)’s not heard anything from him since that night?”

“You know I didn’t give him my number…” you say the words, but Jenna’s barely paying attention to you. She’s too pulled into Sam’s warm eyes to give you more than a side glance.

“Steve’s not really the type to pry. He’s a big believer in privacy, so while Nat may have offered him a means to contact (Y/N), he wouldn’t use it. Plus, he’s been pretty busy since that night.”

Natasha had given Steve your number, but he didn’t use it because he was “busy.”

“I mean, you guys are like superheroes, aren’t you always busy?” you ask, trying to reign in your surprise.

“Busy” feels more like code for saying he isn’t interested.

And no matter how mad you are at yourself for hoping that Steve was thinking about you too, it doesn’t mask the empty, deflated feeling in your gut now that you know he’s not.

“We are, but these last couple weeks have been pretty intense,” Sam answers, leaning a little further forward to glance past your head. “Tying up the loose ends on our last mission has taken longer than we expected. And now the extradition isn’t working out the way we had hoped.”

“Is that why you’re dressed in civilian clothes and keep staring across the street?” you ask, your lips pursing into a harsh line. Some part of you wants to like Sam, but the deeper, angrier part of you that hates being lied to stops you from giving in.

Sam’s head swivels back to you, a tight-lipped smile straining his features, “Maybe.”

“So is talking to us part of your cover-”

“I sat down here of my own free will. And until you started interrogating me I was having a fine time talking with you two.”

Jenna’s gaze darts over to you, sending you daggers with her glare. Well, obviously she likes Sam more than you’d initially thought.

“Okay, then let’s talk about something other than Steve and the team,” you say, your focus falling back to the table. Jenna was absolutely fine with you moving on from your unrequited crush on Steve until Sam sat down.

“Deal,” Sam answers, letting a genuine smile transform his features as he nods. “So what have you ladies been up to?”

“Enjoying our lunch breaks while I try to set (Y/N) with a hot guy friend of mine!” Jenna grins.

“Ohhh, is there a picture of this guy?” Jenna’s smile doesn’t falter as Sam closes the space between them. She pulls out her phone and types for a second before she flips the phone toward him. “Okay, he’s definitely a model.”

“And an actor.”

“Are you sure that’s who you want to set (Y/N) up with?” You almost laugh at that. “No offense, he’s definitely pretty, but I feel like a guy with more substance is more her type?”

“Thank you,” you smirk, warming up to him.

“He doesn’t need substance if he’s just a rebound,” Jenna argues.

“Sure, but after Steve, I’m afraid he’s gonna be a let down,” he reasons. You want to tell him that the baseline isn’t Steve, but really, he’s the only one you’ll be thinking about.

“Steve’s an unfair bar to hold anyone up to.” Jenna wasn’t wrong, but you really wanted to stop discussing him. There’s no point in rubbing what you missed out on in your face. “Oh, sorry,” she whispers as she looks at you.

She pulls her phone back from Sam and tries to bring up something else. As they continue talking, you can’t help but feel like a third wheel on a date with them. Obviously, this isn’t a date. And Jenna didn’t even remember Sam until he brought up that night. But they really do have chemistry.

The way she rests her chin on her hand and watches him closely. The way he revels in making her laugh, chasing her smile like a puppy chases its owner. And you can’t lie, they’d be cute together. Jenna always knew how to play flirty and friendly, but this was different.

And Sam hadn’t looked past your shoulder in 5 minutes.

You glance down at your phone, realizing your lunch ends in 8 minutes. “Shit,” you whisper, pushing yourself out of your seat. “Well it was nice to see you, Sam. And I’ll talk to you later Jenna.”

She gives you a weak wave and Sam nods his goodbye. You turn your back on them and hustle back to work. Going into lunch, you were sure you wouldn’t go out with anyone Jenna set you up with. No matter how unreasonable it was, some part of you was holding out for Steve.

But apparently, he had no interest.

And yet, someone else had snagged an Avenger instead.

Maybe there really wasn’t someone out there for you.


End file.
